


The Love Song of Dean and Gigantor

by SylvanWitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-08-29 00:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16733217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylvanWitch/pseuds/SylvanWitch
Summary: They're a little drunk.  "Wrestling" ensues.





	The Love Song of Dean and Gigantor

**Author's Note:**

> This little ficlet came to me while I was revisiting some other beloved old fandoms, and who am I to turn down my most prolific fandom pairing AND the fandom that brought me so many awesome online friends? It was a lot of fun to write these two again.
> 
> I'd imagine this is set sometime in Season 1.

“What happens at midnight stays at midnight,” Dean said.

 

Sam giggled.

 

“That’s stupid.”

 

“You’re stupid.”

 

Shoving ensued.  Shortly thereafter, red-faced and panting, Sam, who was a lot bigger and stronger than he had been the last time they’d wrestled, had Dean pinned to his hotel bed, and neither of them were laughing.

 

“Uh…” Dean managed, though his eyes seemed somewhat unfocused.  It might be the knee snug up against his package or the obvious evidence of Sam’s desire pressing into his thigh.

 

Or a painful need to pee.

 

“Get off me, you moose!” Dean grumbled, shoving half-heartedly at his brother.

 

Naturally, that made Sam drop his weight further.  Which may have been Dean’s intention end all along.  They’d been brothers a long time, after all, and Dean wasn’t above getting a little extra if he could plead alcohol and restlessness tomorrow.

 

But Sam’s action had had the side effect of lining up their hard cocks in such a way that through Dean’s sweats and Sam’s boxers there was very little preventing them from full-on _Flowers in the Attic_ -style action.

 

Dean held his breath.

 

And then Sam moved, infinitesimally, the barest friction against Dean’s cock.

 

It was enough to make him suck in a startled breath, which he then choked on.  Far from turning Sam off, Dean’s convulsive coughing served only to rub them together in yet more interesting ways, and soon Sam was rutting against Dean, breaking his name into two syllables, his eyes closed, his head thrown back, every muscle in his neck defined.

 

Figuring he was already going to hell, Dean raised his knees, making a cradle of his pelvis, and it was good— _so good_ —that he groaned and said, “Sammy,” in a kind of breathless wonder, and then he came in his pants like he was a teenager again, and Sam jerked and shuddered above him, whining through his own orgasm.

 

And then they were sticky and sweaty and staring at each other wide-eyed and uncertain.

 

Dean thought, _Fuck this_ , and slapped Sammy on the ass.  “Get up, Gigantor, you’re heavy.  Plus,  we really need a shower.”

 

He laid special emphasis on the _we_.

 

Sam made it to the bathroom while Dean was still grimacing through sitting up, trying to keep his sweats from sticking to his pubes and wishing he’d taken his pants off before the action had gotten real.

 

Then Sam reappeared in the bathroom door, this time completely naked, and Dean forgot about his dignity, which was a good thing, given what happened next.

 


End file.
